


Grandson’s Worry

by hollyhock13



Series: Whumptober 2019 [20]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Detective Comics (Comics)
Genre: Alt.11, Angst, Batman: Contagion (DCU), Gen, I made Alfred sick and Tim sad about it, Illnesses, Nightmares, Prompt: Infection, Sickfic, The Clench (Batman), Whumptober 2019, alternate prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 22:14:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21186830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollyhock13/pseuds/hollyhock13
Summary: It’s undeniable, this is Tim’s fault





	Grandson’s Worry

**Author's Note:**

> Meh. It’s not my best work, but here we are.
> 
> Thanks to [@Ursapharoh15](%E2%80%9C) for everything.
> 
> Enjoy!

Tim wakes up grateful to breathe.

His breathing grows deeper and steadier as he processes what he had been experiencing. The dream had been a nightmare, reliving those days when he’d had the clench. He consciously unclenches his muscles. Maybe a cramp set off the dream?

He stretches his arms up, then side to side. He never gets back to sleep after one of these nightmares, not without a walk to prove he can.

He flips on the lamp next to his bed. He spots his slippers tossed across the room by his own neglect earlier in the day. He decides to forgo them this time and stands, bringing the blanket with him. He’s still a little chilly from patrol, or at least that’s what he tells himself.

The hallway is dim. Tim frowns. It had been almost nine o’clock according to his alarm clock. Alfred is always up by now. He’d better go check on the old man. Maybe he’ll even make Tim a cup of cocoa before he goes back to sleep.

Tim nods. A solid plan. He shuffles down the hallway toward Alfred’s room.

He knocks lightly on the door, then again harder when he gets no response for a few moments. He frowns. Alfred always responds to a knock. He turns the handle, telling himself he’s just worried about the man, not snooping.

His heart drops at the sight of Alfred curled on the bed. 

“Alfred? Are you alright?”

“Master Timothy? Would you perhaps fetch Master Bruce for me?” The old man is trembling from the tightness of his muscles, and Tim knows.

He knows this is the clench, and he knows it’s his fault. 


End file.
